Page 49 of Queen of Vice

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The insistent buzzing of my phone pulled me from a deep, dreamless sleep. My hand fumbled over the sheets until I wrapped my fingers around the device. Groggily, I lifted my head, squinting at the screen. The floor-to-ceiling drapes were partially drawn, but not enough to block out the unexpected morning sun.

"Peyton," I murmured, my voice hoarse from sleep. My body ached in a way that reminded me of the intense night before, and I winced as I tried to clear my throat. "Hello?" I croaked out, the sound grating even to my own ears.

"Are you still in the suite?" His voice was sharp, tinged with an urgency that jolted me further awake.

"Yes," I managed, my heart beginning to race at the worry evident in his tone. "What’s wrong?" I asked, my eyes darting over themultiple text messages and missed calls cluttering my notification screen.

"Meet me in the lobby, pronto," he said quickly, his words clipped and full of tension.

Before I could respond, the line went dead. I stared at the phone for a moment, the silence of the room settling around me like a heavy blanket. The events of the previous night were a blur, and I realized with a sinking feeling that I didn’t remember falling asleep. The exhaustion had claimed me completely, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. With a deep breath, I shoved the blanket off my naked body, feeling the cool air of the luxury suite against my skin.

Mateo was gone, leaving no trace of his presence, as if the night before had been a vivid, erotic dream rather than reality. The extreme soreness in my muscles told me otherwise. Pushing aside the lingering fog of sleep, I forced myself to focus. I had no idea what Peyton was so anxious about, but I knew better than to ignore it.

I searched the room, hoping to find some clothes, my mind racing with questions. The dress I’d worn last night was nowhere in sight, and I had a sinking feeling it had been ruined beyond repair.

With a frustrated sigh, I moved toward a large wardrobe on the far side of the suite. I hesitated for a moment before pulling open the doors, not sure what to expect. To my surprise, inside hung a single dress, emerald green with a tag still attached.

It was simple yet elegant, the kind of dress that seemed perfectly picked out for the day ahead. It was as if someone had known I’d need it—likely Mateo. I brushed my fingers over the soft fabric, feeling a wave of emotions I couldn’t quite name.

With no other option, I slipped into the dress, grateful for its perfect fit. The fabric fell softly around me, the deep green complimenting my skin.

As I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I hardly recognized the woman staring back. I rushed into the bathroom, my mind still spinning. Grabbing a brush, I quickly ran it through my hair before twisting it into a low bun at the nape of my neck. I didn’t have time to do more, so I swished some mouthwash, feeling the cool burn as I tried to clear the lingering taste of sleep from my mouth.

Satisfied that I looked somewhat presentable, I hurried back into the main room, snatching my phone off the nightstand as I headed for the door. It was only as I stepped into the hallway that I realized I had no idea where the lobby was in this enormous building.

Panic flared up in my chest as I stood there, momentarily paralyzed. The suite had felt like a labyrinth last night, and in the light of day, it was no less confusing. I didn’t have time to get lost—Peyton had sounded urgent, and I needed to find him.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart. "Think," I whispered to myself, scanning the hallway for any signs or clues. There had to be someone I could ask for directions, but the corridor was eerily silent, not a soul in sight.

Gritting my teeth, I decided to trust my instincts and headed in the direction I vaguely remembered coming from last night, hoping I wouldn't end up more lost than I already felt. I paused mid-step, suddenly realizing the direction I was heading would take me back to the nightclub, not the hotel lobby where Peyton would be waiting. I cursed under my breath, frustration and anxiety bubbling up as I turned on my heel, heading back down the empty hallway.

The silence of the corridor was unnerving, each of my footsteps echoing off the walls. As I rounded a corner, I faltered, surprised to see a man standing in front of three elevators. Hisposture was rigid, and the golden lapel on his uniform indicated he was staff.

Before I could open my mouth to ask for directions, he spoke. "This lift will take you down to the lobby," he said, his voice smooth and professional. With a small nod, he pressed a button, and the elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime.

"Thank you," I mumbled, ducking inside quickly. I glanced back at him as the doors began to close, but he remained still, his expression unreadable.

I knew this had something to do with Mateo—there was no other explanation for why I’d woken up alone or why I was being allowed to leave his suite so freely. My mind buzzed with a thousand thoughts as the elevator doors slid open, revealing a lavish lobby bathed in warm light.

Before I could fully step out, I was snagged by Melody and Peyton, their grips tight and their expressions strained. “What’sgoing on?” I asked, trying to ignore the curious stares we were attracting from the hotel staff and guests.

“That’s a loaded question,” Melody replied, her voice low but firm, as she kept a hold on my hand.

Without any more explanation, they hurried me through the lobby and out of the hotel, emerging to the backside of the hill where both buildings sat. The parking lot was full, the luxury cars gleaming under the morning sun.

“We’re in spot 8,” Peyton announced, pulling out a key fob.

“Spot 8?” I echoed, confusion settling in as we approached the parking spot.

A sleek white luxury car sat waiting for us. It was pristine, the kind of car that screamed money and power.

“Whose car is this?” I asked, the unease in my voice growing.

“Your fiancé’s,” Peyton enunciated the word with a pointed look. “Hop in.”

At Melody’s urging, I slid into the front passenger seat, the cool leather beneath me doing little to calm my nerves. “Okay, now can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

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